bringing me?"
"Yes, sir. Money."
Davis got the alligator case out of the travel ba g and reached over to lay it on top of Rosen's attach e case. He watched the man snap it open.
"You mind my asking, sir--your name's A l Rosen?"
"That's right."
"You weren't by any chance a third baseman?"
Rosen looked up at him, his hands on the case.
"You're about the right age," Davis said. "Th e one played for the Indians, made Most Valuabl e Player in, I think, '53. Hit forty-three home runs , led the league with a three thirty-six average."
"You want to know something? You're the firs t person over here's asked me that," Rosen said.
"How old you think I was then?"
"I don't know. In your twenties?"
"He hit three thirty-six," Rosen said, "bu t Mickey Vernon led the league that year. Beat hi m out by oh-oh-one percentage point with a thre e thirty-seven."
"Yeah?" Davis was interested and more at ease.
"I don't remember what happened to him afte r that. I was only about eleven."
"Rosen? He retired, thirty-one years of age.
Greenberg, the sonofabitch, wouldn't give him an y more than twenty-seven five to come back, an d Rosen said fuck it. He was already in the brokerag e business."
"Greenberg from the Tigers?"
"Yeah, he was general manager of the Indian s then."
"I guess I don't recall that," Davis said.
"Yeah, well, I'm about ten years older than yo u are." Opening the alligator case, Rosen said, "S o you remember Al Rosen, huh?"
He picked up a sheet of paper that was insid e and his expression changed as he began reading it , squinting or frowning, Davis wasn't sure which.
Something wasn't right. Davis stepped around t o look in the case. There wasn't anywhere near tw o hundred thousand inside. Just a bunch of loos e hundred-dollar bills.
"You know about this?" Rosen was staring a t him again. "He sent five grand. That's all."
"You think I took it?"
"I'm asking if he said anything about it, if he tol d you what he was doing."
"No, sir. He put two hundred thousand in ther e yesterday. I watched him."
"You counted it?"
"He said how much it was. There were twent y packs of hundred-dollar bills."
"How long have you been working with Tali , getting the packages?"
"This was the third one," Davis said. "Ther e were some letters other times."
Rosen held up the sheet of paper. "My lawye r says, 'I'm not sure we can trust the Marine.' "
Davis was used to standing on the front side of a desk, at ease or at attention. He made no comment.
It was all right, because he felt much different wit h Mr. Rosen than he did with Mr. Bandy. He respected Mr. Rosen.
"My lawyer says we can't trust anyone under th e circumstances. 'Anyone' underlined. He says, m y lawyer who's been here two days, 'Let's conside r this a test run. If you receive the five thousand intact we will know we have established a reliable liaison'--Jesus Christ--'and I will feel more confident in carrying out the responsibility of seeing that you receive the entire amount.' "
"He writes different than he talks," Davis said.
"Fucking lawyer," Rosen said. "His responsibility! It's not his responsibility, he's got nothing to do with the money!"
"Why don't you fire him?" Davis said.
"He says if I receive this and so on. He doesn' t say anything about if I don't receive it. You notic e that?" Rosen said. "All right, why wouldn't I receive it? One, you ran off with it. Two, I didn't show up here for some reason. But if I knew it wa s coming, what's the only reason I wouldn't b e here?" Rosen waited.
Davis shook his head.
"Because I'd be fucking dead is what I'd be,"
Rosen said. "The sonofabitch, he's waiting to see i f I stay alive before he delivers the two hundred. I'v e got to save my ass and he's concerned, he's worrying, he says he wants to feel confident about his responsibility!"
"Why don't I go back and get it?" Davis said.
Rosen looked at him and seemed surprised.
"You mean right now? You'd do that for me?"
"He says he wants to establish a liaison.
"Yes, sir. Money."
Davis got the alligator case out of the travel ba g and reached over to lay it on top of Rosen's attach e case. He watched the man snap it open.
"You mind my asking, sir--your name's A l Rosen?"
"That's right."
"You weren't by any chance a third baseman?"
Rosen looked up at him, his hands on the case.
"You're about the right age," Davis said. "Th e one played for the Indians, made Most Valuabl e Player in, I think, '53. Hit forty-three home runs , led the league with a three thirty-six average."
"You want to know something? You're the firs t person over here's asked me that," Rosen said.
"How old you think I was then?"
"I don't know. In your twenties?"
"He hit three thirty-six," Rosen said, "bu t Mickey Vernon led the league that year. Beat hi m out by oh-oh-one percentage point with a thre e thirty-seven."
"Yeah?" Davis was interested and more at ease.
"I don't remember what happened to him afte r that. I was only about eleven."
"Rosen? He retired, thirty-one years of age.
Greenberg, the sonofabitch, wouldn't give him an y more than twenty-seven five to come back, an d Rosen said fuck it. He was already in the brokerag e business."
"Greenberg from the Tigers?"
"Yeah, he was general manager of the Indian s then."
"I guess I don't recall that," Davis said.
"Yeah, well, I'm about ten years older than yo u are." Opening the alligator case, Rosen said, "S o you remember Al Rosen, huh?"
He picked up a sheet of paper that was insid e and his expression changed as he began reading it , squinting or frowning, Davis wasn't sure which.
Something wasn't right. Davis stepped around t o look in the case. There wasn't anywhere near tw o hundred thousand inside. Just a bunch of loos e hundred-dollar bills.
"You know about this?" Rosen was staring a t him again. "He sent five grand. That's all."
"You think I took it?"
"I'm asking if he said anything about it, if he tol d you what he was doing."
"No, sir. He put two hundred thousand in ther e yesterday. I watched him."
"You counted it?"
"He said how much it was. There were twent y packs of hundred-dollar bills."
"How long have you been working with Tali , getting the packages?"
"This was the third one," Davis said. "Ther e were some letters other times."
Rosen held up the sheet of paper. "My lawye r says, 'I'm not sure we can trust the Marine.' "
Davis was used to standing on the front side of a desk, at ease or at attention. He made no comment.
It was all right, because he felt much different wit h Mr. Rosen than he did with Mr. Bandy. He respected Mr. Rosen.
"My lawyer says we can't trust anyone under th e circumstances. 'Anyone' underlined. He says, m y lawyer who's been here two days, 'Let's conside r this a test run. If you receive the five thousand intact we will know we have established a reliable liaison'--Jesus Christ--'and I will feel more confident in carrying out the responsibility of seeing that you receive the entire amount.' "
"He writes different than he talks," Davis said.
"Fucking lawyer," Rosen said. "His responsibility! It's not his responsibility, he's got nothing to do with the money!"
"Why don't you fire him?" Davis said.
"He says if I receive this and so on. He doesn' t say anything about if I don't receive it. You notic e that?" Rosen said. "All right, why wouldn't I receive it? One, you ran off with it. Two, I didn't show up here for some reason. But if I knew it wa s coming, what's the only reason I wouldn't b e here?" Rosen waited.
Davis shook his head.
"Because I'd be fucking dead is what I'd be,"
Rosen said. "The sonofabitch, he's waiting to see i f I stay alive before he delivers the two hundred. I'v e got to save my ass and he's concerned, he's worrying, he says he wants to feel confident about his responsibility!"
"Why don't I go back and get it?" Davis said.
Rosen looked at him and seemed surprised.
"You mean right now? You'd do that for me?"
"He says he wants to establish a liaison.
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